


Ain't I Pretty (it's my city)

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: The Edie AU [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, genderswap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Race swats at him with the hem of her skirt. “Excuse you, Mr. Jacobs, I am a lady. Hands off.”“Oh, a lady?” says Davey, his tone teasing. “I’ve never met a lady who got into as many fistfights as you do, Miss Higgins.”(a girl!Race AU)
Relationships: Racetrack Higgins/David Jacobs
Series: The Edie AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966081
Comments: 20
Kudos: 51





	Ain't I Pretty (it's my city)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what girl!Race looks like, I've posted a few drawings of her over on tumblr!  
> This au idea hit me like a ton of bricks the other day, and I couldn't resist playing with it. For now, this is a oneshot, but there's a not insignificant chance that I'll expand on it before long, because that's just sort of how I am.

Everything is falling apart right before Race's eyes. Jack betrayed them, and now Davey is running away, too.

“Davey!” Race says, catching up to him. “Where are you going, we need you!”

“Need me?” Davey echoes. He turns back to look at her, and there’s this haunted, lost look in his eye that makes Race’s heart ache. “Need _me_?”

“Yeah, dumbass, we need you,” says Race. “I ain’t got even half an idea what to do next, you’s our idea guy. Come back inside.”

Davey laughs, and it’s this broken, humorless laugh that honestly gives Race a bit of a chill. “The only reason anybody trusted me is ‘cause Jack did. If Jack’s a scab, why should anybody listen to me, huh? Who in their right mind would trust me after all this, Race?”

“Edie,” Race blurts. She glances around, making sure they’re alone a little belatedly.

“What?” says Davey, his brow furrowed.

“My name is Edie,” Race says, committing. “Well, _Edith_ , but - Davey, I ain’t ever told anybody but Crutch and Jacky that.”

“I’m sorry, Racer, I don’t understand,” Davey replies.

Race sighs, running her hands through her hair. “Davey, I trust you.”

“Oh,” says Davey.

“Yeah, oh,” says Race. “I know you ain’t gonna - gonna believe me if I tell you the boys do, too, but _I_ trust you. And the boys’s gonna follow my lead.” She steps closer to him, carefully taking his hand.

The gesture isn’t lost on Davey, who looks down at their joined hands, startled. Race wonders if he’s remembering the way she jerked away from him on that first day or her tension as they walked back to the lodging house after the riot supporting each other. Maybe both.

“Come back inside, Davey,” she says again. 

“Okay,” he says.

She leads him back into the theatre, their hands still joined. He stalls for a moment in the wings, looking out toward the stage.

“Race -”

“You got this, Davey,” Race says firmly. She tugs him by their joined hands into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around his middle. “I’ll be right here.”

When they separate, Davey’s got a funny look on his face. Race is pretty sure part of it is the same tentative confidence she’d seen there when he first stepped up to speak in front of all the boys an hour ago, but there’s something else mixed in that she can’t identify.

“Thanks, Racer,” Davey says. “Let’s do this.”

In the end, it isn’t Davey coming back to the rally that wins the day for the strike, but Race still counts it as a win for her and Davey.

\--

Race hears somebody walking up to her and she doesn’t react, initially, only then she sees the familiar feet of Davey Jacobs next to her.

“Davey!” she says, startled, straightening up and dropping her skirt. She’s flushed bright red, she’s sure she is. It’s dumb, because she’s never been fussy about the boys seeing her less than presentable before, but this is _Davey_ and somehow it seems more important. It’s dumb, because they’re just _knees_ , but - “Sorry!”

“No, it’s - you’re fine, I - is everything okay?” Davey says. “You disappeared.”

“Wringing this shit out,” Race says, gesturing toward the hem of her skirt. “I got drenched, an’ it’s hard to walk with a mile of wet fabric around my legs, but I don’t wanna wring it inside, y’know?”

They’re just outside the door, under the overhang to stay out of the rain.

“Yeah,” says Davey. “I - oh, no.”

“What?”

“I was going to offer to help, but that’s - that would probably be weird.”

Race laughs, swatting at his leg with the (still soaked) hem of her skirt. “Excuse _you_ , Mr. Jacobs, I am a _lady_. Hands off.”

“Oh, a _lady_?” says Davey, his tone teasing. “I’ve never met a lady who got into as many fistfights as you do, Miss Higgins.”

“That don’t mean they don’t want to,” Race replies grinning, “just that they ain’t had the opportunity.”

Davey snorts. “You don’t look like much of a lady.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as pretty as Kathy Plumber.”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t - I never said anything about you not being pretty.”

She’s got to be so freakin’ red now. “I wasn’t fishin’ for compliments, Davey.”

“You are, you know?” Davey says anyway, and he’s a little bit red, too, so that’s something. “I mean - not that you have to be or anything, but - shit, Racer. You gotta know, don’t you?”

Race laughs, but it’s breathy and nervous this time. “Know?”

“Well, yeah,” Davey says softly. “You’re beautiful, Edie.”

Race is a hundred percent sure she’s stopped breathing. She’s looking up at Davey and he’s got this soft, nervous look in his eye and Race can’t fucking take it.

“Careful, Davey,” Race says, with that same nervous laugh. “A girl might think you was sweet on her.”

“A girl might be right,” says Davey, smiling at her. 

Oh. 

Race opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. It’s not that this is bad by any means - definitely not, if the racing of her heart is to be trusted - just that Race is absolute shit at moments like this.

“ _Racer!”_ Jack’s voice calls from inside. “ _Get’cha butt inside! You got shit to do!”_

_“Coming_ , Jacky!” Race calls back, sounding strangled. She pushes past Davey into the building, her face burning, and she knows she’s probably ruined this but ain’t that just par for the course?

_Still_ , she thinks, her mind straying back to the sweet smile on Davey’s face, _maybe he’ll give me another shot._

“Racer?” Jack says when she reaches him, frowning. “You good?”

“I – yeah,” says Race. She runs her fingers through her hair, and they get caught up in the damp, tangled curls. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Jack asks, quieter. “You don’t look so hot, girlie.”

Race shoves him, not too hard but pointedly. “Shut _up_. I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” says Jack.

“I do. Shut up.”

Race shifts on her feet a little. She _does_ have shit to do, but she’s bouncing on the edge of – “Hey, Jacky?”

“What’s up?” Jack says.

“I – how’d you tell Kathy you like her?”

Jack shrugs. “I dunno, I just kinda did. _After_ I told her to take a swing at me and she kissed me instead, though. Why do you wanna know?”

“No reason,” Race replies, and it comes out a little caught again. “I’ll go. Do stuff. Now.”

“Okay,” says Jack. “You know you can tell me –“

“Yeah, goodbye,” says Race, who then makes a decided move away from Jack toward one of the little guys who’s having a hard time with one of his shoes.

\--

“Hey, Davey,” Race says as casually as possible at distribution the next morning.

“Heya, Race,” Davey replies, looking for all the world like he hadn’t upturned Race’s entire brain last night.

She rocks up onto her toes, then back to her heels. “How’s it goin’?”

“All the better for seeing you,” says Davey, grinning. “You made yourself scarce after we talked last night.”

“I’m sorry,” Race says genuinely. “I got busy and –“ she goes a little pink again – “I got busy. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Racer,” Davey says. “ _I’m_ sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I – it’s okay,” Race blurts. “It’s okay. I’m – people don’t, uh, say that. About me. Very often.”

“Well, they should,” says Davey. It’s not fair, he’s doing all kinds of fuzzy, skippy things to Race’s heart. She reaches for him, without really even thinking, although she’s not sure what she means to do. The idea of taking his hand crosses her mind, but it also makes her feel like there are bees under her skin trying to get out with nervous anticipation.

There’s a shout behind them, and Race whips around. Albert’s gotten into some kind of altercation with the Delancey brothers – again – and Race is honor-bound as Albert’s best friend to jump in to help him. That motherfucker.

She leaves Davey and her weird reluctance to actually make skin-to-skin contact with him anymore behind, instead launching herself into the fight.

Before she knows it, there’s a strong arm around her waist, pulling her up and away from Morris Delancey. It’s Jack, because Jack is always the one to drag her out of fights.

“Aw, Jacky, lemme soak’em,” she whines, although she doesn’t actually struggle against him.

“ _No_ , Race,” says Jack. “C’mon, girlie, you know better.”

“I can take’em!”

“I know you can take’em,” Jack says. “That don’t mean you should.”

“Albert started it,” Race says a little childishly.

Jack snorts. “I know. He’s getting an earful from Davey and Crutchie, too.”

Race glances over at the three of them. Albert looks not the slightest bit repentant, which Race doesn’t blame him for. She doesn’t know what the Delanceys did, but she knows they deserved it. They always do.

For just a second, she catches Davey’s eye. A tiny fragment of her worries distantly that maybe he won’t be so sweet on her after being reminded how shitty she is at being a girl, but that worry evaporates when she sees the fond smile he’s giving her. Her heart does a funny little flip-flop in her chest at the sight.

Okay, so that’s how this is gonna go.

\--

A few days later, Race flops down next to Crutchie.

“Hey, Crutch?” she says, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. It needs mending, since she’d tripped over it getting up this morning and pulled out some of the stitching. That happens every few weeks, since her stitchwork is kind of shit. Honestly it’s kind of a miracle it’s as presentable as it is.

“What’s up, Race?” replies Crutchie.

“I have a question,” says Race. “A purely scientific question, for academic reasons.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“How – how do you tell somebody you like them?” Race says, too fast and too quiet. Crutchie, who has been putting up with Race for almost a decade, seems to understand her, though.

“You sweet on somebody?”

“No!” Race replies. “No. Like I said. Academic reasons.”

Crutchie rolls his eyes, chuckling. He throws his legs across her lap. “Sure, sure. And the way you keep looking at Davey when you think nobody’s watching you –“

“Shut up!” says Race, swatting at his legs. “Shut up, shut _up_. I hate you, why did I think asking you for advice was a good idea?”

“Because I’ve got good sense, and your other option is Jack.”

“Did you know that the first time Kathy kissed him, he’d asked her to punch him first? And she almost did!”

Crutchie laughs harder at that. “Yeah, I knew. You sayin’ that ain’t how you wanna get Davey?”

“No!” says Race.

“Have you considered just telling him, doll?”

“Constantly!” She twists the end of her hair around her fingertips. “Every time I try, I get all tied up inside, or something happens, and I – it’s _Davey_ , Crutchie! How’m I supposed to – to – it’s _Davey_.”

“Yeah,” Crutchie says, his laughter dying down, replaced with a fond smile. “It’s Davey. Who you already trust with your name and your life and who looks at you like you hung the goddamned moon. What’s the issue?”

“Davey deserves a – a regular girl. Who ain’t – I dunno, patched skirts and bruised knuckles and all,” Race says quietly.

“But he likes _you_ ,” says Crutchie. “He does. You know that, right?”

“He told me,” Race says more quietly still.

“He _told_ you, and you’re still all tangled up over it?” Crutchie kicks her. “Girlie, get your _shit_ together. It’s not like you’re gonna get rejected.”

“He told me and I didn’t say anything and I ran away!” says Race, full volume all at once.

“Then apologize,” Crutchie says simply. “Apologize, and tell him how you feel.”

“It sounds so easy when you say it like that, Charlie.”

“Oh, Edie-girl. It _is.”_

\--

“Hey! Hey Davey!” Race says, running after him and Jack, who are walking with arms slung over each other’s shoulders toward Jacobi’s.

Davey turns, his arm falling away from Jack. “Race! Hi!”

“Davey,” Race says again, her cheeks hot, “do you have a minute? To talk?”

“Sure,” says Davey. He steps toward her, away from Jack. “Go on, Jackie, we’ll catch you up.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Racer, do Davey’n’I need’ta have words about you?”

“Mother of God, Jack, go _away_ ,” says Race. She’s honestly absolutely mortified – _of all the times for Jack to play big brother._

“You know I’m just lookin’ out for you,” says Jack.

“Jack,” Davey says, just this side of warning. “We’ll catch you up.”

“Okay, okay,” says Jack, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m going.”

“I hate him,” Race grumbles, red faced, as he walks away.

Davey laughs. “He’s not so bad. What did you want to talk about?”

“What you said last week,” Race says, all in a rush, “Davey, did you mean it?”

“What?” Davey replies softly. “That you’re beautiful?”

“That you’re sweet on me,” Race chokes out. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” says Davey. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. That would be mean.”

“Yeah,” says Race. “Yeah, I –“

“Why do you ask, Racer?”

“Because I like you a lot,” she blurts. “I like you a lot, and I think if you didn’t mean it I’d be gutted.”

“Well,” says Davey, taking a half-step closer and brushing a strand of hair away from her face and making her heart speed up, “it’s a good thing I meant it then, huh?”

“Oh,” Race says, breathless. She giggles, a bit despite herself. “You’re surprisingly good at this shit, Davey Jacobs.”

“I wish I could say it were anything but luck,” says Davey. “But it’s luck, it’s all luck. And you - you bring it out in me.”

Race opens her mouth to respond, but she’s distracted by how close she and Davey are standing. He’s a few inches taller than her, so she’s looking up a bit, but at this distance she can see the very faintest of freckles across his nose and cheeks. She’d never noticed that before.

She thinks for just the barest second that he might kiss her right here on the street – his hand is still on her cheek, where he’d left it after sweeping back her hair, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to tip her head up and lean down – but then the door to Jacobi’s is thrown open and Albert runs out, calling for Race. She and Davey spring apart to a much more respectable three foot distance, Davey’s hands pointedly finding their way into his pockets.

“Racer! C’mon, you gotta settle somethin’ for me’n Buttons!” Albert says, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her off.

It’s all Race can do to throw an apologetic look over her shoulder at Davey. He waves her on, smiling fondly.

Well, there’ll be plenty of time for all that. At least Davey seems to know what he’s getting into.


End file.
